


how to ruin us.

by titaniumtony



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Angst, One Shot, Pining, fluff sorta too, i guess??, takes place during age of ultron just fyi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titaniumtony/pseuds/titaniumtony
Summary: "I don't want to ruin things between us, but I really have to do this."- - - -Alternatively: Steve hates Tony. In the best kind of way.The title is very misleading.





	how to ruin us.

**Author's Note:**

> BASED OFF OF/INSPIRED BY A GREAT EDIT BY A GREAT PERSON. A million people said they were gonna write this but I couldn't just not be one of them.  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BXwJsTTll7W/?taken-by=tcnysass Here's Tatum's post. Go like it and follow her and send her love!

The farmhouse is a strange comfort that Steve couldn't have planned for.

There were a few things he had failed to map a suitable strategy for, recently. Ultron, the following fight, the confrontation that was meant to put a stop to the robot's plans, and Tony.

While there was some correlation between those things, there wasn't as much as Steve would have hoped.

The man had gotten them into this mess, he tells himself. He was trying to put the whole world on a path that he saw fit, because he thought he knew best. He didn't tell anyone, because he knew it would work. Steve can hear the explanation in his head: "I ran the numbers. I saw the risk. I knew what I could do."

For a genius, the man has a terrible habit of being stupid. In the years they've worked together, Steve has noticed that much. Some days he's certain Tony knows all the components of string theory, and others he's not sure how the man ever managed to live this long with the decisions he makes and their accompanying "justifications," if one could even call them that.

He's arrogant. He's a know-it-all. He's a brat. He's so hard to keep up with that sometimes Steve rather wouldn't bother to try. He's going to drown the world with all his good intentions, like the damn idiot he is.

And Steve loves him so much it _hurts_.

He doesn't know what to do about everything, and looking at Tony now and still loving him isn't helping.

When Tony breaks away from the team, Steve follows suit. He falls in step next to the man, who was looking worse for wear after his run-in with the Hulk. It makes Steve's heart throb, and his body is tense with the effort it takes to keep from reaching out and checking him over with his own two hands.

"Hey, Cap," Tony says. Steve can hear the weariness in his tone. "Y'know, you've never really told me why you hate me."

If Steve was tense before, he can hardly imagine the hard line of his body now. He glances over as they stop in the doorway just before the hall, but finds meeting Tony's eyes is something he can't handle. War was predictable; Tony, less so.

He knows why he's asking. Steve has been nothing short of curt since their last bout of fights. He glares, he accuses, he throws jabs meant to incite guilt. He feels as if he's behaving as a child, prodding and poking and needling, but in his head, it's some sort of peculiar way to get even for Tony making his life hell.

With his head bowed, Steve responds, "I can't tell you." His voice is carefully flat, and he trains his eyes on a fleck of mud on his boots. Suddenly, the shield at his back seems a whole lot heavier.

Or, perhaps that's just the air around them. Hard to say, really.

Across from him, he hears the little puff of breath Tony gives, like what Steve's said is the punchline to a joke instead of what should be a dismissal. If he looked up, he's certain he'd find the man smirking.

"Is the Capsicle too scared, or what?" Tony taunts.

It's bait, and Steve knows it. Tony knows he knows it. This is an old dance for them, and it's one Steve's always been weak to. He never fails to rise to it, and he feels his temper flare instinctively.

When he raises his head, he's met with the small smirk he'd expected. Tony's eyes don't match it, though. The man could put on all the masks he wanted, in front of a camera and not, but his eyes always had a terrible habit of giving way what was really going on. At present, they were assessing. They were looking for any and all tells Steve might give away.

He was glad; he had no intention of hiding his frustration.

"I'm not scared, Tony," Steve snaps, his voice nothing like what it had been. It's sharp, now. His jaw is set, and his expression is too serious for a conversation that had started off as a jesting inquisition. But he's let the dam down a little, and like a flood, he feels it all begin to give way. Steve is opening his mouth again without the conscious decision to.

"You want to know why I hate you?" He asks, eyes narrowed. Tony seems to realize what he's gotten himself into, but the man would sooner cut his own arm off than back down from what he perceived as a challenge. Steve takes it as an open invitation to keep going, and unwittingly angles himself towards Tony.

His heartbeat spikes in a way he swears is too much like the sickly kid's from Brooklyn, but instead of the rasping breath he expects, he blurts, "I hate you because I love you."

Tony has to be taken aback by this. All the equations he could have ran, all the algorithms he could have set up, and there was no data set that could have indicated this. Steve doesn't stop.

"I love you so damn much. And I know you'll never feel the same, which hurts," he continues. His heart is hammering in his throat, beating a painful tattoo under his skin. If he were any less determined right now, he's certain he'd be croaking his words.

For the first time since Steve's begun, Tony tries to talk. "I-" he begins, but Steve doesn't think he can bear to hear it.

_I can't fucking believe this._

_I hate you._

_I never want to see you again._

His head plays countless continuations, all of which more painful than the last. Steve talks over them, as well as over Tony himself.

"I know," he hisses, head down again. Looking at Tony while he was trying to figure out how best to break off their friendship was proving too much. "It's a stupid reason. But I- I love you, Tony. And I don't regret what I just said."

Steve knew too much about what it was like to regret not having said anything to regret finally opening his mouth, no matter what kind of pain that may follow this.

He lifts his head, but directs his focus over Tony's shoulder instead of on his face. If he looked while he said this, he may very well lose his nerve entirely.

"I don't want to ruin things between us," he starts, sincere in that as he had been in his initial confession, "but I really have to do this."

Tony can hate him, if he wants. Steve would understand. He'd submit his resignation as soon as this whole ordeal was dealt with, if that's what would make him happy. But right now, Steve really, really _needed_ this.

"Steve, I-" Tony tries. Steve catches sight of his startled face as he drags his attention back to the man, but he's closing his eyes soon enough and can't really be sure of what other emotion he finds not only in the man's eyes but just as much in his face.

He finally releases his hands from where they'd been clenched at his sides and they come up, quick and open, to either side of Tony's head, angling his face up so their lips can meet. On Steve's part, the kiss is equal parts consuming and savoring. His mouth works urgently against Tony's, like he's trying to memorize every minute detail. Subconsciously, he knows he is. This is the first, the last, and the only time he's ever going to get this. He's going to make sure it's memorable, at the very least.

When he moves to pull away, an apology already rising to his tongue, he finds Tony is following him. The scratch of his beard against Steve's face is back, only instead of reverent like Steve had been, Tony is downright assertive with the way he kisses. His hand is wound in the front of Steve's uniform, and if he opened his eyes, he's certain he'd find the man's brows knit in concentration. The man kisses with as much purpose as he does anything else, which is to say, with unparalleled intent.

Steve doesn't realize Tony's been pushing him until the shield meets the doorway behind him with a dull thud. It's enough to send Tony out of his apparent reverie, because in the next breath, he's parted from Steve, leaving him flushed and looking up at the soldier.

The air between them is wordless for what feels like ages. Steve knows he must be quite the sight: some pitiful, sappy look on his face, his lips pink, his face pinker. He can feel the tips of his ears burning, and his chest is light with a hope he didn't dare address, not now.

It was a mistake, surely. Tony had kissed him back out of instinct, not out of reciprocated feelings. Things like that didn't happen, and surely Steve didn't _deserve_ –

"God, I love you," Tony breathes, like some kind of prayer he's allowed to well up inside him for far too long, and Steve feels...

Well. Steve feels loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I went a little beyond where the edit left off but hey artistic liberties, right?  
> 


End file.
